The Greater Things
by writingchick15
Summary: *Fanfiction Crossover of Divergent and Red Queen* Beatrice didn't make it to the train for Dauntless initiation, and Tobias was not born into Abnegation. Cal is not Maven's older brother, Mare Barrow is not a Red, and Evangeline is not interested in obtaining King Tiberias's throne through marriage... When all six characters collide in unexpected ways, their world will be at stake.


**Disclaimer: Though this is technically a Divergent fanfic, it is really a crossover of Divergent by Veronica Roth and Red Queen by Victoria Aveyard (only characters and setting knowledge of the first book in each trilogy is needed/ recommended). For those unfamiliar with the term, a crossover is when two popular stories (setting and characters) collide and form a new version of the two stories that is epic and pretty dang fun to write and read.**

 **Haii people! The point of view switches for each chapter! Main characters whose points of view will be used ARE as follows: Beatrice/ Tris Prior, Tobias/ Four, Prince Cal, Prince Maven, Mare Barrow and at very few points Evangeline. Title of chapter shows which POV is goin on for the chapter. All ideas, suggestions, questions or comments will answered, theenks!**

 **Tris's POV**

For the past two years of my life, I've had the same, recurring dream every night. It haunts me in my waking hours, in every breath, every step and every blink, only to remind me in my unconscious state of who I've become.

…..

The sunlight in my eyes blocks my vision, but I don't have enough stability in my buzzing head to fix it. People are yelling, running for the train faster than me, jumping on as I'm stumbling over myself when the train picks up speed. My palms are full of sweat as I reach out to grab door handles, bars, anything. The metal slips away, inching farther from my grasp, and I feel as if the remainder of my life disappears with it.

I push harder, run faster. Panting, crying, my thighs are killing me. The ground feels hard against my aching calves; I'm ashamed for how easily I tire. No one seems to notice how much I'm trying, how desperately I want to make the leap and jump on, to continue the journey into Dauntless, and find this hidden part of myself that I was so sure existed.

But it is not enough. My desires, my efforts, they mean nothing in the face of reality.

The train gradually gets further away, my peers who made it on the train comfort each other on their way to the next part of their training. I'm left in the dust to die a wasteful death, alone because when I look around, I see that I am the only failure.

I pushed too hard, maybe it was the stress or the adrenaline, but I slow down and know that it's over. I don't know where to go or how I am going to get there, as I'm overwhelmed with nausea and fatigue, my forehead beading with sweat that streams into my eyes. I feel my knees buckle and I collapse, but when I begin to fall- I don't slam face first into the concrete rails of the train track, but rather land on my hands and knees. Instead of imminent feelings of death and defeat, there is a pulse within me; some kind of insane energy I'd never felt in my life. It's as if I just drank eight cups of coffee in the final few seconds before a marathon. The world spins for merely seconds; I hold myself up to keep from passing out. The train is still in sight, gradually getting smaller and smaller. The world lights up, and I smile faintly. I feel as if I could take off from this very spot and fly to wherever I need to go, discarding all laws of physics and common sense.

So I do.

I step up from the ground, push off, and I soar, up and through the seemingly liquid air. That is what the sky feels like every night: fluidity in its purest, smoothest form. No air resistance, no friction; I'm a bullet shot straight out of the back of a gun. My path takes me past the handle bars of the metal machine, higher and higher and onto the top of the train. The wind whips through me like the power coursing through my veins, and the air no longer tastes like sour, wallowing self-pity. My feet stay planted on the roof as I reach up to the sky with both my arms, and cry out triumphantly to anyone who's listening. At that point, it didn't matter who saw or heard; I was a champion. And if I could conquer the mess that I was in that moment, then I could do anything.

…..

And then the feeling disappears as quickly as it came. I wake up, for that fate is not, nor will ever be, mine to hold and carry on for myself. I lay on whatever it was I slept on the night before (a bench, a dirty mattress, the compact dirt of a shack), and tell myself that I did not fly on that day: the day where I collapsed onto railroad tracks because I gave up. I tell myself that no matter how much I wish I had flew, I had stayed there on my hands and knees, watching the train get further and further away until I couldn't see it anymore.

There was a voice in my head that blisteringly hot day, two years ago, screaming at me to _get up, GO, you can still make it, you can get to their headquarters another way; that is what a REAL Dauntless would do_.

But I was not a real Dauntless, would never be. A real Dauntless would've been able to get on that damn train when they had the chance.

Maybe I would have been accepted if I went to Dauntless facilities on my own two feet, but the Beatrice then wouldn't have been able to face the humiliation of the potential rejection. More proof that I was a coward.

I remember sitting on the tracks for a long time, motionless, everything dead. The world continued, but my desire to stay alive refused to do the same. My hands, my face, my eyes.. my mind. They ceased to exist. Instead of chasing what I knew I wanted, I tried to make sense of my newfound status in society: Factionless. The lowest of the low. It fit me well, to further represent the people who had ran away from what they wanted out of fear.

It hurt. I still feel that pain today, as I sit here on this bench, contemplating the moments of my life when everything fell apart.

I don't remember what finally got me to feet, what gave me the will to climb down the ladder of the train tracks to the asphalt road. I stood there, looking around helplessly as I watched society go by. People from all 5 Factions, wearing blue, grey, black and white or red and yellow, all walked past me like I was nothing. The people wearing edgy colors from Dauntless made it worse.

It made sense that I was ignored; it was because I was wearing grey: the color that all those from Abnegation wore. We were meant to selflessly disappear in the crowd, void of all expression and comparing, envious thoughts of negativity. It did not matter that I was wearing grey; I didn't belong in Abnegation anymore.. not after the way I had betrayed them. I couldn't go home, no matter how much I or my family wanted me to. Caleb wouldn't even be there; he had chosen Erudite...

Nowhere to go, I felt that there was nothing I could do to fix my newly induced state of depression.

So I walked. I put my hands in my pockets, kept my head down, and practically shuffled my way out of the major portion of the city, and into the outskirts where the Factionless lived.

And life has been that exact way ever since.


End file.
